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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696149">Even...</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella'>OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxious David Rose, M/M, POV David Rose, Post-Episode: s04e06 Open Mic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:14:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Patrick started singing, David was bracing himself. Who would voluntarily get up and sing in front of everyone they knew? Surely there was nothing attractive about that prospect. Had it been anyone but Patrick, David would have walked out, but their dynamic was different. Patrick was self-assured in a way that fascinated David. And much as it begrudged David to admit it, Patrick’s idea had brought quite a lot of people into the store on a weeknight.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Even...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before Patrick started singing, David was bracing himself. Who would voluntarily get up and sing in front of everyone they knew? Surely there was nothing attractive about that prospect. Had it been anyone but Patrick, David would have walked out, but their dynamic was different. Patrick was self-assured in a way that fascinated David. And much as it begrudged David to admit it, Patrick’s idea had brought quite a lot of people into the store on a weeknight.</p><p>So they’d finish this night and never have to speak of it again.</p><p>And then Patrick had gotten up, bright, nervous smile starting the evening. He’d announced this would be the first of many nights, earning a gritted teeth smile from David who was hoping the floor might open up right there and swallow him whole. He wouldn’t even care if his new sweater was ruined as he climbed out later. As long as he didn’t have to bear the torture of…</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>Patrick’s voice was light and actually very pleasant. It took David a second to recognise the tune, but he felt his shoulders relax from around his ears as he recognised the lyrics.</p><p>
  <em>You come to me, wild and wired…</em>
</p><p>He could feel his mother standing behind him, her initial disappointment at Patrick morphing into an astonishment that had her clutching at David’s arm. As though he wasn’t party to the incredible sound of Patrick serenading him in front of half the town.</p><p>As though it didn’t affect him.</p><p>Patrick kept singing, looking at David and out over the crowd. David was aware of people’s eyes on him – he glanced over their heads once or twice, self-conscious as Patrick started – but as it continued he couldn’t keep his eyes off Patrick. His vision grew slowly blurry as he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, Patrick’s sweet words swirling around him. This was more, and such a public declaration it took David’s breath away.</p><p>His chest grew tighter and tighter as the song continued until finally, Patrick strummed the last chord.</p><p>“Oh, you’re the best.”</p><p>It hung in the air for a long second, the room stunned into silence before someone started the applause. It jolted David from his reverie and he clapped, looking up to stop the tears running down his face. As the applause continued he felt the tightness in his chest continue to grow until he could barely stand it.</p><p>With a gasp, David fled, barely missing someone as they tried to speak with him. He headed out through the back storeroom into the tiny courtyard, the space they never used. Behind a lopsided piece of latticework there was a chair David sometimes came to sit when people – mainly his family – were making him crazy and he needed some space.</p><p>Tonight it was enveloped in darkness. He groped his way around the lattice, almost tripping on the loose bricks before his fingers found the back of the chair and sank into it. As soon as his weight hit the chair the first sob exploded out of him, a ragged, wet sound torn from his throat. Jesus, what was going on? Something in that song had affected him, hit him in a place he didn’t even realise was damaged and here he was, gasping for breath alone in a dark garden, desperately hoping nobody came looking for him.</p><p>At first he couldn’t do anything but let his body heave, great tearing breaths dragging air into his lungs as his nose ran and tear streamed down his cheeks. He tried to be quiet but he could hear a muffled whining that he couldn’t control. Everything else receded and it was just him and the hard chair beneath him, face pressed into the sleeve of his new sweater in the darkness.</p><p>Exhaustion was creeping in by the time his breathing started to even out. David sat up a little, taking stock of his body. His throat was sore, face definitely puffy – he’d have to do a mask when he got home – and weirdly, the rest of him was heavy. Like, crawl-into-bed-don’t-wake-me-for-two-days kind of heavy. It was the feeling David associated with the morning after a three day bender. How weird that this experience was equally draining.</p><p>As he registered the sound of laughter filtering out of the store, David tentatively thought about Patrick singing again. It had been beautiful. A faint smile tried to make itself known as he remembered that first rush, when he’d realised what Patrick was singing. More than that, he realised the song was directed at him. And as the lyrics played out – why had he never really listened? – that was when things got more difficult.</p><p>That was when Patrick’s meaning became clearer. Even now, sitting here, David had to control his breathing, lest he be overwhelmed once more. Until now he and Patrick had been having fun. They ran the business, they sneaked into the storeroom to fool around, they teased each other with cleverly worded challenges. It was far healthier than anything David had experienced, but with the bar so low that was hardly noteworthy in itself. Patrick was nice, and kind and considerate, and he understood David in a way few others had in the past. But they hadn’t talked deeply about their pasts or their future, and they’d really only just started referring to each other as boyfriends.</p><p>This though…this was a step up from that. A big, public declaration, the kind of thing that made David cringe even at the idea. And when Patrick told him he was planning on singing, David seriously considered sabotaging the night. But he could see how excited Patrick was about the whole idea and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He remembered wondering when he’d come to value Patrick so much. In the past he wouldn’t have hesitated to put his own desire not to be mocked over anything else.</p><p>But with Patrick it was different.</p><p>He saw this kind of declaration as exciting. David was pretty sure he was aware it was a little dorky but he didn’t care, and that self-awareness made him endearing rather than cringy. If he was honest, David was a little envious of how effortlessly Patrick presented himself to the world.</p><p>He shifted on his seat, uncomfortably aware how close he was coming to the heart of what Patrick had hit with his performance. This kind of introspection was not his natural space. But Patrick had upped the ante here and David needed to keep up. Needed to meet him where he’d now set their relationship, further than David had ever had to travel with someone.</p><p>But that idea scared him. And while Patrick’s truth might be that he could do this without embarrassment, David’s truth was not the same. He could work to change, but he might never do it with the same ease as Patrick, and as he realised that a whisper of a question rolled over him.</p><p>
  <em>Would that be enough for Patrick?</em>
</p><p>“Oh God,” David whispered. That was it. That was what had hit him deep, right down in the old cracks of his soul where he never liked to go. It spoke to such a fundamental part of him and while he wanted to be different, David knew it would be difficult and painful to heal it. And part of healing it would be sharing it with Patrick. Another question, in some ways juxtaposed to the first came into his head, equally upsetting.</p><p>
  <em>Would his cracks be too much for Patrick?</em>
</p><p>Jesus, this really had him looking at himself more closely than he had in a long, long time.</p><p>“David?”</p><p>He froze. Someone had come looking for him, as he knew they would. Why had he chosen somewhere with nowhere to escape? The last thing he needed right now was to have to talk to someone, especially…</p><p>“David, it’s your mother,” came the voice again, alarmingly close now.</p><p>He shrunk back into the darkness, hoping his mother would not look too closely. He peered out, hardly able to see through the lattice.</p><p>“David?” came the call again, his name drawn out like the call of a rare bird. His mother’s face appeared to float, her high-necked black dress allowing only her face to catch the moonlight. David winced, hoping she wouldn’t realise he was so close.</p><p>She paused, looking around, but didn’t speak again. David thought he was safe as she turned back towards the door to the storeroom, but she turned at the last minute. Of course she had to be dramatic, he thought as she started speaking to him.</p><p>“Day-vid,” she said, “if you’re here, Patrick is looking for you.” She paused. “He seems quite discombobulated about where you are, poor dear.” David hoped she was done, but he saw her tilt her head and affect the far-away look she believed made her look thoughtful and dreamy.</p><p>
  <em>Oh God, she’s going to soliloquise.</em>
</p><p>“David, we were not overly involved in your form-a-tive years,” Moira began. David dropped his head. She really was going to go on for a while, wasn’t she? “And before we came here, I don’t think we’d met more than half a dozen of your beau.” She sighed dramatically. “None of them were worthy of my son, David, but Patrick,” another dramatic sigh, “Patrick is another matter. I must admit I was somewhat concerned about his planned soiree this evening, but when he opened his mouth I was blown away, David! He is a little pitchy and would benefit from some professional guidance but you can’t fault his emotional connection.”</p><p>David was cringing again. Please don’t let his mother go and say something to Patrick, especially before David had a chance to do it. She would scare him away, surely. Or worse, convince him to come and find David.</p><p>“Whatever his song meant to you David, you must talk to him. Because he is a good man and you would be lucky to have him.”</p><p>David braced but she was evidently done because she paused for dramatic effect before sweeping back inside, leaving him alone in the garden once again.</p><p>
  <em>Thank God.</em>
</p><p>It was a while later – David wasn’t sure how long but there had been several rounds of applause inside, and now the noise level was consistently loud – when he heard footsteps.</p><p>“David?”</p><p>Patrick’s voice was low and when David peered out between the latticework, Patrick didn’t look confident he was in the right place. He hesitated for a second, but as he turned back David found himself standing up.</p><p>“I’m here,” he said, stepping carefully over the uneven brickwork and out where Patrick would be able to see him.</p><p>“Hey, David,” Patrick said, relief clear in his voice. “I didn’t see you after the first song.”</p><p>David nodded distractedly. “Hey, um, has my mother spoken to you tonight?”</p><p>Patrick frowned. “Your mother? No.”</p><p>David nodded again, relaxing slightly. At least he’d be able to do this on his own terms. “I just needed some space.”</p><p>“After the first song?” Patrick asked carefully.</p><p>“Yes,” David said.</p><p>“It was too much, wasn’t it?” Patrick said, blowing out a breath. “I’m sorry David, I pushed for this night and I shouldn’t have made such a fuss about…”</p><p>“No,” David interrupted. “Patrick, that song was amazing.” He stepped closer, his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. “You are amazing.” He swallowed. “I can’t believe you sang that to me in front of the whole town.”</p><p>“Neither can I,” Patrick admitted. His smile faded as he met David’s eyes. “But I wanted to,” he said quietly. “I wanted everyone to know how much you meant to me.”</p><p>David nodded. “I’m not very good at that,” he said, pulling his hands back and twisting his fingers, wincing at the awkward words. “At expressing myself.”</p><p>“I know,” Patrick replied with a patient smile. “You don’t have to sing, David.”</p><p>“Oh god no,” David said immediately. He felt his expression relax as he added, “but even…privately,” he swallowed again, “I don’t…it’s hard. To find the right words.”</p><p>“I know,” Patrick said quietly. “I was singing someone else’s words.” He shrugged. “I wanted to write something for you, but I couldn’t think of a better song than that one.”</p><p>David nodded, not entirely sure Patrick understood. He took a deep breath. “I’ve never had a relationship where we’ve talked about how we felt. About each other.” Patrick watched him, eyes calm and affectionate. “And you do it so easily.”</p><p>Patrick’s small smile widened into a grin. “Not exactly,” he said. “I do it, but it’s not easy.”</p><p>David blinked. “It’s not?”</p><p>“No,” Patrick replied. He took a deep breath, expression growing serious again. “I promised myself the last time I broke up with a girlfriend that I would be open and honest with whoever I dated next.” He gave a half smile. “When I met you, I knew I wanted to get to know you, David. And I knew there would be some difficult conversations.”</p><p>“Then why…” David said, trailing off, hoping Patrick would understand.</p><p>“Why do I make the effort?” Patrick asked. “Or why do I stick around even though you run faster from a difficult conversation than from cheap shampoo?”</p><p>David nodded, ordering himself not to smile at the analogy. “Both,” he whispered when he could trust his mouth to remain serious.</p><p>Patrick nodded, but he said nothing. Instead he stepped closer, moving slowly enough to let David move away if he wanted to. It was the slowest hug David had ever experienced; several seconds passed before Patrick’s arms were settled around him, his face pressed into David’s neck like he did when he was tired or a little drunk. Was this the answer? Was Patrick realising there was no good reason for him to hang around and this was goodbye? David tried to relax, to allow Patrick to do whatever he was doing, but he could feel the tension still winding through his body as he waited for Patrick to make his answer clear.</p><p>Patrick sighed, raising his face so his mouth was beside David’s ear. “You are fascinating,” he murmured, and the surprise was so great David didn’t realise he was being manhandled until Patrick had their hands holding each other so they could sway together. Were they dancing? Belatedly David heard the strains of some kind of slow ballad from inside the store.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>“The more I know you, the more I realise I want to be around you for…for a long time,” Patrick said, correcting himself near the end of his sentence. “And that won’t happen if we’re not honest with each other.”</p><p>“Doesn’t that frighten you?” David asked, keeping his face hidden.</p><p>“Every day,” Patrick admitted. “Every day I have to make myself face my fears and talk to you about things I’d rather avoid. And it frightens me. But not being around you frightens me more.”</p><p>David didn’t reply, taking in Patrick’s words. Their shape was familiar, but he couldn’t work out why. “I know you’re not perfect, David,” Patrick continued, “and I’m not perfect. But I see you. I see some things you might wish I didn’t, and I’m still here. And I think you see me in the same way. And that scares the hell out of me, being vulnerable like that, but it also makes me want to protect what we have.” He swallowed. “It makes me brave.”</p><p>David nodded, blinking tears away. Jesus, if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.</p><p>“So to be clear,” David said, still not moving so Patrick could see his face, “you want to be with me. Even…” his throat closed suddenly and he couldn’t press the words out.</p><p>“Even,” Patrick said, his reply firm. “Even if you don’t have the words, you show me every day. And that is more than enough, David.”</p><p>David nodded again, more for a response than anything else as his mind raced. He thought he recognised the shape of Patrick’s words; they were coming into focus as he spoke and now David could see familiar curves. Hesitantly he took Patrick’s words and tried them, letting out a gasp when they fit.</p><p>Patrick’s words filled the cracks. The deepest fissures of David’s soul, untouched for years, had begun their healing. It wasn’t David needing to explain; Patrick’s words had begun to heal him. It wasn’t perfect, and David knew some of the work would be his to do. But Patrick saw him, even the cracks and fears, and that was enough.</p>
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